syncopated.

missing.

i miss simpsons.

if i told you a secret
you won't tell a soul
will you hold it and keep it alive

cause it's burning a hole
and i can't get to sleep
and i can't keep alive in this lie

if the world isn't turning
your heart won't return
anyone
anything
anyhow

if it's real what i'm feeling
there's no makebelieving
the sound of the wings of the flight of a dove

baby
love will come through
it's just waiting for you.

oh, woe is the compulsive liar.


setting hearts ablaze, someday we'll know
why the sky is blue.

But I can't help the feeling
I float through the ceiling.

earlier in the week i was looking my drawers for coloured paper.

i found my old archive of the optimist days. sof rankings from 1999 and 2000, results of my first top 10 finishes, articles of beijing 2008 (a pic of my old humpel boat) and of '13-year old tops at world meet'.

which reminded of what i had thought on that dreadfully long (and teary) bus ride home with melcolm, after the 3rd day in doha. -thanks mel, for just being there after an eventful day.

if we could put all the best singapore sailors on a level playing field, i.e. same boat, weight, consistent conditions, course, sane umpires. where you win on racing smart, on mental strength.

who'd come out on top?

wearn haw charles shaw her ben tan roy seng leong stanley yuan zhen wee chin cai melcolm dawn maxi fendi sean lee timothy seet griz.

Strummed at 11:35 AM (x)